


Hostage

by TheOwlish1



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Abduction, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Diplomat's son, F/M, Kidnapping, Mistaken Identity, Teen Romance, foster child
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 10:59:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2426285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOwlish1/pseuds/TheOwlish1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diplomats' children are being taken, their abductions broadcast on the internet with ransom demands. Emma is taken by mistake and as the knowledge that nobody is coming for her settles in, she just has to save herself… oh, and some rich diplomat's kid who just won't leave her alone. AU where Emma is 17 and in the foster system, while 18 year old Killian is the son of an Irish diplomat. *I know nothing about diplomats, high schools or New York city.*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Luck has a way of running out

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm giving this ship another go, this time with something a little more ambitious. I don't have a beta, the story is planned out, except for the end which could go in a number of ways.

Emma strode down the busy street, listening in as a group of her peers were complaining loudly about the school uniforms. It was quite difficult to walk with their arms all linked up on a busy afternoon in New York city, but Emma's difficulty was worth this symbol of inclusion.

"… I mean, the skirts are made for nuns! I hike the thing up to my bra level and it still reaches my knees!" A particularly loud girl (Sonia, maybe?) exclaimed and then beamed as her friends all laughed at her joke.

"Come on, they aren't that bad Soph." Damn, the loud one was Sophie… but then which one was Sonia? Emma wasn't great with names, she usually had no need to be.

Emily, the girl directly linked with Emma pitched in next. "I kind of like the uniforms."

The rest of the girls turned towards her, various shades of shock etched on their teenaged faces.

"You've gotta be joking? They majorly suck Em!" Sophie, the loud one, pulled at the dark ribbon tied around her neck as if to make a point.

Emily tucked a stray blonde curl behind her ear. "No, I think they're hideous, don't get me wrong. But I like that I don't have to spend time worrying what to wear in the morning. Plus, I can keep all of my nice clothes for when I'm doing something fun, not to try and impress people at school." She paused and ducked her head, almost shyly. "I guess I like that we all have to wear the same."

The other teens thought over what their friend had said for a few moments. Emma secretly agreed, as a foster kid, going to her last couple of schools had been hard, all of her clothes were worn hand-me-downs that were often oddly fitting and limited in variety. It set her apart from others in the school. But she had moved to her new foster home at the end of the summer, so had started the new year at this fancy high school (another blessing, starting in the middle of the year made everything more difficult) who had given her uniforms at their expense.

Emma was snapped out of her reverie when someone kissed her cheek. "Bye Emma, see you for breakfast tomorrow right?"

Returning the gesture, she offered a smile. "Sure, can't wait." Her group of companions split into three at a crossroad, Emma and Emily heading to the right.

Emily quickly started talking about her Labrador puppy, Lyla, and Emma couldn't help but laugh at the little dog's antics. The furball had been the reason the two had met, coming free from her leash and racing away as a frantic Emily chased her down. Emma had been taking out the trash as she spotted the puppy and had managed to grab her by the scruff of her neck - much to the huffing owner's delight. A quick exchange later, Emma had a companion to walk to school the next day with and had taken her breakfast to eat with Emily and her friends every morning before school for the week after that.

It seemed that Emily's vouching had been good enough for her friends, because Emma now found herself a part of an exclusive group of girls who did everything together. Every one of her classes had at least one of the 5 other girls in it so she never walked the corridors alone, had an instant lab partner and was picked for teams in gym. It was a strange concept for her to have a place. And all because of that crazy puppy!

Yes, Emma definitely struck luck here.

They reached Emily's house first, the foster home was on the next corner, and Emma gave her a hug and a promise of meeting up tomorrow to walk to breakfast. Just as Emma turned to head home, she heard a voice.

"Oh wait, Emma!" Emily called from her front door. "I have my trig. notes from last semester, I'll just run and get them while I remember!" Emily waited for Emma's nod and grateful smile before disappearing inside.

Math had never been Emma's strong suit, and the offer of help was not only a pleasant one, but needed too. She couldn't help but smile at her fortune; Emma had never found friends so quickly, or at all really outside of the system. Emily was especially welcome with her good sense of humour and kind smile, Emma was even considering telling her about being a foster kid. Honestly, she didn't think that it would matter that much to Emily.

The next series of events occurred so quickly, Emma would only remember it as a series of flashes. A white van with blacked out windows stopping beside her. A pair of hands grabbing her by her upper arms and pulling her to the back of the van. Her yells as she was shoved forcefully into the darkness. Pressure in her back as something, maybe a knee, is pressed into it, pinning her to the floor. More hands, different ones this time, in her peripheral vision pulling a rope around her face, gagging her. The ripping sound accompanying the duct tape used to bind her hands and feet together. The sick feeling in her stomach as she realises that the van is moving, taking her away from the first bit of luck she'd found in this world.


	2. The Mix-up

Emma blinked tears from her eyes and tried to calm her breathing down. The rope was thick and stretching her mouth uncomfortably, she couldn't breathe around it very well. Couple that to the fact that she couldn't breathe out of her tear-induced runny nose and she was starting to feel a little panicked.

Come on Emma, you need to focus. You've been in tight spots before, all you need to do is use your brain and you can get out of this.

She recalled her time in Connecticut, Mrs Branson with her raised palm and Mr Branson… well, he was worse.

She could do this.

The van seemed to have three people in it: the guy who grabbed her, the person who gagged her and, presumably, a driver. The gagger was sitting on a bench along one side of the rear of the van, while Emma was lying on her right side, facing him, with her back pressed up against the van's opposite wall. As subtly as she could, she pulled at her bindings; the tape ran from her wrists to her elbows, her hands clasped uncomfortably palms together. Having no luck, Emma tried pulling her legs apart and noted that her captor had no issue with taping her bare legs together at the ankles and again at the knees.

The bindings were too tight for her to budge.

Glancing around there were cans of what appeared to be paint and she seemed to be lying on (paint?) stained tarpaulin. There wasn't anything she could feel behind her that could be of any use.

"Hey you, stop moving around." The gagger glared at her, the threat of 'or else' was implied. Emma noted that he didn't seem to have an accent of any kind and he looked sincere enough that he wouldn't have any issue in following through on his threat if she tried anything.

They were in the van long enough for her arm to fall asleep. When the vehicle stopped, she felt a jolt of adrenaline as she prepared to absorb as much information as she could when she got outside.

Unfortunately, she couldn't see out of the windscreen from her position on the floor and the gagger didn't waste any time before pulling a black hood over her head. He lifted her - Emma hated being carried - from the van and she felt the cool evening air hit her legs as he stood fully, shifting her weight onto one shoulder.

The hood was more fitted than it seemed, as gravity didn't allow it to fall off. Emma tried to ignore it as the feeling tingled painfully back into her arm and listened. It was too quiet to be in the city and their footfalls were muffled, almost as if the ground had something soft to cushion the blows. Another thing she noticed was how uneven the ground was; the man carrying her had to keep stepping over and around things. His other arm lifted something above her head - a branch maybe? Was that water she heard in the background? Was it wet ground she could smell? Could she be in a forest of some sort?

Suddenly, she was passed on to someone else much larger and firmer than before. Previously, she had felt the jut of a shoulder bone in her abdomen, now a pair of arms cradled her as if she weighed nothing at all. Then she was being lowered, hands beneath her armpits, down into the grasp of someone else - the first man again.

Once again, Emma found herself bent over someone's shoulder, her own shoulders pulled back by her bound hands, as she was taken down a series of corridors which twisted and turned too much for Emma to keep track of the route. The group's footsteps echoed down the hallway, which said to Emma that there wasn't anywhere for the sound to go other than up or down the concrete corridor.  
She winced as the group reached stairs, the shoulder bouncing repeatedly into the same part of her abdomen over and over. When they finally reached the bottom, she felt the bruise begin to form.

The sounds of the footsteps didn't change for a while and Emma guessed that they had been walking close to half an hour before they stopped, the beeping of a keypad being typed into before a buzzer announced the opening of a locked door.

Once inside, Emma was set down on a chair and her hood was ripped off. She blinked as the bright light made spots appear in front of her.

"So glad you could join us."

Emma turned to the source of the voice, reclining in a comfortable looking chair opposite her. The man was in shadow, the bright light aimed at her so she couldn't see his face. She took this as a good sign, a sign that they might let her go since she would have no clues to give the authorities of her location or captors.

"I'm sorry for the manner in which you were brought here, but it was unfortunately unavoidable."

She wanted to laugh at the cliché she was in - dark room, bound and gagged, random bad guy about to monologue at her…

"You see, your father is a very important man…"

Wait, what? Her father? She didn't even know who her father was - she had been abandoned by the side of the road as a newborn baby.

"…and he has a lot of influence, influence which I need to borrow for a short period of time."

Oh great, monologuing. Couldn't he go back to the part about her father?

"But anyway, all I need you to do is look into this camera and look as terrified as you feel, so your father will pay attention to my demands and get you back, okay?"

Okay, so this guy was certifiably psycho and was under the impression that her father was going to save her. Emma squinted in the harsh light and found the lens of the camera, looking directly into it.

"Hello Minister, as my letters were ignored I hope that this is deemed urgent enough for a reply." Emma saw a glimpse of a hand as she was gestured to. "As you can see, we have your daughter." The hand disappeared from her sight, all Emma had learned was that the man was older and Caucasian. "Now, you will transfer a deposit of $1 million into the account detailed upon your screen to ensure her safety until tomorrow morning. If you do that, then we will contact you again with a list of demands, if you don't… well say goodbye to Emily…"

The light on the camera flicked off.

Emily. They thought she was Emily?

Oh this was bad… this was very, very bad.

Emma didn't react as the hood was replaced over her head and she was carried out into the corridor again.

She had been standing outside of Emily's house, a very nice house which apparently housed some diplomats of some kind. Emily was her height and had the same long blond curls that she did. They also went to the same school. It wasn't that big of a leap to assume that she was the diplomat's daughter.

What if they didn't pay the ransom? She had only known Emily for a little over a week and a million dollars was a lot of money, especially for someone else's kid.

For the first time that day Emma thought she was going to die.

Another door was wrenched open, this time by the person holding her. She was placed on a surface and the duct tape was sliced open, freeing her.

"Don't turn around until I say you can, okay?" He shook her and raised his voice a little, making her jump. "Okay?!"

Emma nodded.

The hood was removed and the rope serving as a gag was untied; she stretched her mouth reflexively. In front of her, she saw a bare stone wall and felt the presence of the man retreating.

"You can turn now." he said, shutting the door firmly behind him and twisting the lock.

Emma stretched out her arms and legs, sore from hours of confinement. Her eyes raked the room; small and bare, it had a sink and a bucket in the corner. She was sat on a metal-framed single bed which took up the length of the wall facing the door. There was a plastic cup of water on the floor nearest the door, next to a Styrofoam plate with a hunk of bread and an apple. It could have been worse. At least she wasn't going to dehydrate, or starve.

Emma began the gruelling task of picking the duct tape off of her legs (and was grateful for the long-sleeved cardigan protecting her arms from the same torment) and tried to think of a plan.  
What was she going to do if Emily's dad didn't pay the money by tomorrow?

Emma wasn't like Emily, she didn't have a family who would care if she got kidnapped. She was property of the state, all she had was herself and her life. All she had to count on was herself.  
Emma grabbed the bread and started chewing on it.

She needed to think up a plan to get herself out of here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to get this out there so people can see where this is going.  
> Killian will be introduced in the next chapter, and that's where the fun really begins!  
> Do comment any suggestions, corrections or affections!

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave feedback on how you think this should go/has gone so far.  
> Also, sorry if my American is a little shoddy (I can't tell you how much it pains me to leave the 's' off of 'maths'), please do help a Brit out!


End file.
